


Almuerzo

by theorchidhorror



Series: OverPrompt [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Baby angst, Gen, One-Shot, Very Very Light Angst, also bonding over mexican comfort food, platonic relationships give me life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchidhorror/pseuds/theorchidhorror
Summary: Nothing says team bonding like comfort food and talking about war crimes. Right?





	Almuerzo

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> "Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy."

She’s here on a “strictly provisional basis”- that’s what they keep telling her anyway. But Sombra knows enough about Talon and its members to know that they are in _dire_ need of someone like her- no matter how much they try and play it cool. They’ve got intel people, sure, but no one can do what Sombra does. She’s an asset, and she knows it.

Somehow, she’d imagined Talon headquarters to be… more impressive than it’s actually proved to be. She’d figured for something more _textbook sinister_ , maybe; an old abandoned castle, with long dark corridors, and looming portraits of their most prolific members- real “Legion of Doom(fist)” type stuff. But so far, Talon’s base of operations is nothing more than an old building deep in the heart of a nondescript city. On the inside it resembles more of a military base which, while not surprising, _is_ a little disappointing. At least Los Muertos had the decency to decorate following their theme.

There’s not even been much for her to do. Sombra’s already researched Talon top to bottom- members, enemies, holdings, business dealings, childhood pets- you name it, she’s got it stored away. But as far as actual missions go… she’d been told in no uncertain terms that she was to cool her heels until they were sure they could trust her with mission parameters.

So mostly she’s been resigned to wandering the building and annoying others.

She’s just come from bothering the spider. Amélie mostly keeps to herself- for good reason, Sombra supposes; her file is definitely one of the bleaker reads in the Library Of Talon. Which is exactly _why_ , she reasoned, Widowmaker could use some fun in her life. But, long story short, Amélie had thrown a shoe at her and hit Sombra square in the forehead- so maybe not so much.

Sombra is headed to the makeshift kitchen now for ice, to stop the swelling of the bump on her forehead. She reaches up and tentatively touches the spot, wincing as she does. Forget guns- Talon just needs to send Amélie into their next infiltration armed with stilettos. The thought makes her chuckle to herself but as she rounds the corner to the kitchen she stops short. The swinging doors to the room are shut, but Sombra can smell- just barely- something. She can’t quite put her finger on what- but it’s something so insanely familiar to her that she has to stop and blink back the rush of memories that are coming back to her.

She enters through the swinging double doors silently, first poking her head inside to glance around and see if anyone is present.

There’s a black mass standing where the stove should be, and from behind it she can hear the soft clattering of utensils and the low sizzle of something frying in oil. With a flick of her wrist, Sombra engages her camo and pads silently to where Reaper is standing. She leans against a counter and watches, curious.

Reaper has his full costume on (though she’s not really sure how he can stand to wear that much black at ones) but his mask is surprisingly absent, sitting on some empty counter-space a few feet away. She’s never seen his face. She’s seen Gabriel Reyes, sure; a handsome, decorated war veteran like him has pictures readily available in several databases but, she’s never seen _this_ face. The was the accident report after the incident at the Overwatch Swiss base, Sombra wasn’t even sure he still _had_ one.

His face, disfigured and scarred but still oddly, very human, is trained on the plates and bowls in front of him- an almost military focus about it. She watches, enthralled, as Gabe grabs a poblano pepper and stuffs it with some sort of white cheese, before dipping them very gently into what she assumes are whipped egg whites.

“You might want to stand back before these go in. Oil burns.”

Sombra jumps nearly a foot in the air, hand clutching her chest as Reaper speaks directly to her. Reyes only glances sideways at her, before shaking his head and laying the battered peppers gingerly in the oil.

“How’d you know I was there?” She takes another moment of two to slow her heart rate and then lifts herself onto the counter, swinging her legs.

“You’re not as stealthy as you like to think.” Sombra huffs with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest and Reaper chuckles once, humorlessly. “...what happened to your head?”

Sombra groans, dropping her head and letting her hair fall over her face. “ _Widowmaker_ .” She lifts her head, smoothing her hair back to the side and gestures angrily to the round bump on her forehead. “I just wanted to have a _friendly conversation_ with her and she threw one of those things at me. They shouldn’t even _make_ shoes that pointy.”

To her surprise, Gabriel laughs. It’s so brief that Sombra very nearly misses it, but Gabriel Reyes cracked an honest to God smile.

The two sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound between them the crackle and bubbling of the peppers as they fry in hot oil. She studies Gabe as he works, how he waits until the peppers have reached a perfect, uniform golden brown before lifting them out of the pan and onto a waiting plate lined with paper towels. He repeats the process a few times and Sombra notes how exact his movements are- like someone who has clearly done this a lot in the past. In a way it’s something of a comfort to her, watching Gabe.

She even frowns as he turns off the burner, pulling the hot pan off to a cooler spot and sets the finished food on a new paper plate, almost disappointed that the show is over.

He begins to walk away, plate of food in hand, and Sombra quickly scrambles off the counter to follow him. Gabe pauses, turning back to face Sombra and stares, unamused at her. She meets his gaze, a grin on her face, and lets her eyes ask the question they both knew was coming the moment Sombra stepped in the kitchen. Finally, with a drawn out sigh, Reaper snatches another paper plate off the counter and expertly transfers a couple of the peppers from his plate onto it. He holds the plate out for her, expectantly, and Sombra takes it gleefully before he has a chance to change his mind.

“I haven’t had one of these since I was little.” She doesn’t bother with sitting or finding a fork, and opts to pick up the pepper with her hands, taking a bite straight out of it. It’s hot as hell, and the now molten cheese burns her mouth, but she doesn’t care. “I mean, I have, but it’s not the same as back home.”

Gabe is silent as he eats, but he agrees with her. She can just _tell_.

“So how come I don’t see a lot of you cooking for everyone else?” Sombra speaks between taking giant bites of food and sucking in air in an attempt to cool what’s already in her mouth. “All the food I’ve had since you stuck me here’s been bland [wedito](///) food.” She swallows what’s left in her mouth and makes a faux disgusted face. All in all the food here hasn’t been terrible, but it _definitely_ doesn’t compare to homemade Mexican food.

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth twitches- almost into a smile. “I don’t make a habit of letting people know I cook. When I was with Blackwatch I always-” He stops suddenly, as if he’s just remembered something vitally important and frowns again, his eyes staring a hole into his plate. “I just don’t.”

She cocks her head to the right, staring him down. For a moment, Reaper almost had a personality- something different from what all her research has told her.

“...everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.” She pauses, unsure where she’s really going with this. “I mean Akande got drafted into this,” she counts off on her fingers as she brings up names, “the spider has that weird reconditioning thing going for her but… you’re not like that.”

For a moment Gabe looks like he’s going to snap. Maybe pull a gun out of nowhere and really show her who’s boss. But he only nods, and grabs a chair, pulling it towards them and sitting backwards in it. “And what do you think? You’re smart enough to come to your own conclusions.”

Sombra pulls up her computer, her fingers tapping and swiping effortlessly as she scrolls through her files upon files of data on him. “Gabriel Reyes. Promising military career….signed up for that soldier enhancement program that churned out 76… time in Overwatch... passed over for strike commander... Blackwatch…” She sighs and waves her hand, closing out the files. “Honestly? I don’t know what to think. The papers all say you were responsible for the Swiss base explosion and that you tried to kill your best friend on _purpose_ but..”

“You and I both know the world isn’t always black and white. Living like it is can get you killed. Or _worse_.”

Sombra frowns, and again lifts herself to sit on the countertop, by Gabe’s mask. Gingerly, she picks the thing up and runs a nail over it, tracing the shape of the face. “So, I guess that’s where we live then. Somewhere in the gray.”

Gabe nods, standing suddenly and practically glides over to where she’s sitting. He holds out his hand for the mask and stares silently down at her, but Sombra can’t feel any anger or irritation behind it. She passes the mask to him and Gabe affixes it to his face. “I know what I am- I’ve accepted it. Whether you think I’m a bad guy or not depends on how you look at things.” He turns, once again gliding across the room to the door. He pushes a swinging door open and pauses, just to speak over his shoulder at her. “...there’s a few left on the plate. Help yourself.”


End file.
